Kenkyuu Suru Hito The One Whom I Study
by Keiji N
Summary: Another one of Arima's obscure admirers, Kirishima Midori, tells her story...
1. Green

DAI ISSHOO: "GREEN"   
  
Arima Souichirou. a perfect individual in every sense of the word...   
  
At first glance, he seems to be the person that exemplifies all of the good qualities of every human put together. Perfection personified. He is good-looking, an exceptional student, a born leader, and the son of a good family. I envy him a lot.   
  
But...   
  
All this is just a lie. I know it. You know it. I can see it. You can see it.   
  
You want to know why? I won't tell you just yet, but here are some facts to give you a hint: I know of the sides that he never showed. The sides he bottled up... He is embarrassed to let it loose, except for that one time in the Taikuusai in Hokuei Koutou-Gakkou... I saw it all, and he cannot deny it. Not even to Miyazawa.   
  
"SHIT!! DON'T ASK ME TO DO EVERYTHING!!!"   
  
But he quickly recovered. I must admit that I am impressed by his capability to rebound from such ill-timed mistakes. But that was not the last time. Since he met that nutty girl Miyazawa, he's been letting most everything out nowadays...   
  
He's becoming more and more... normal.   
  
Why?   
  
I don't understand it. I've been observing him since he was in Junior High. I might know him even more than he knows himself. I've been spending many sleepless nights thinking about how I can help him the same way that he helped me, but before I had the chance to act, Miyazawa happens.   
  
I put him on a pedestal, and he steps down from it to be "normal".   
  
My name is Kirishima Midori. A name you wouldn't recognize. It is a name that no one would care to remember. A girl with no soul. I am a miserable loner. Since elementary school, every kid in class has shunned me.   
  
Apparently, the parents told their kids not to play with me.   
  
Reason?   
  
My family. I came from a broken family.   
  
And even the word "broken" is an understatement.   
  
My parents got divorced. I stayed with my mom, who remarried several times, each of her husbands having a bone to pick with me for no apparent reason, chastising me until mom catches them in the act. Even after seeing that, my mom never learns. She seems to attract men who value that kind of physical relationship. She is currently married to her third husband who hasn't touched me... yet.   
  
There is not a soul in Kawasaki that has not heard of our story.   
  
Even Arima-kun knows, and yet he is the only one who doesn't look at me with white eyes... eyes of contempt, of hate.   
  
In our second year of Junior High, Arima found me crying my eyes out near the entrance to the rooftop. I had no idea that he loved to hang out there to be alone. All I knew was that time, not only was I shunned by my whole class, I was the butt of every cruel joke, except maybe those instances that they would tease that chunky kid Tonami. But even he is getting a lot less raps than I am now. Arima walked up to where I was and sat down next to me.   
  
"What's wrong?" were the first words he said to me.   
  
I did not answer. I was too busy crying.   
  
I could not stop crying. Even if I wanted to, I just can't.   
  
The kerchief of my uniform was damp. It reeked of my tears that seemed to flow endlessly.   
  
I was afraid.   
  
I was afraid to go back home...   
  
Afraid to face the wrath of another wicked stepfather...   
  
Afraid to see my mom acting all calm despite the visible bruises that she finds on my arms...   
  
Afraid that Arima would add insult to injury by showing exorbitant amounts of pity...   
  
Afraid that he would sugarcoat it by saying that his life is much worse...   
  
I do not know how to live. I don't know how I survive.   
  
Despite my degenerate environment, it's a miracle that I can still maintain decent grades. Not at par with Arima's, but good enough to get me to where I want to go in life.   
  
But where do I want to go?   
  
I know I do not want to be here. Not here, in the rooftop of the school during after-hours crying like a baby.   
  
Not here with the object of everyone's admiration and respect showing pity for me, who is considered to be nothing by others.   
  
"Tell me what's bothering you..."   
  
That was it. I was tired. It may have been the first time that someone pitied me aside from my mom, but admittedly, having someone pity you gets old really fast.   
  
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW!? YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ME!!"   
  
I lost control.   
  
All of the blows I took...   
  
All of my frustrations came rushing out with those words.   
  
And Arima, of all people, was at the receiving end of it.   
  
"You're right. I don't know what it's like..."   
  
I was shocked. His response felt cold and distant.   
  
He stood up and walked away. I never got the chance to explain myself.   
  
He looked stricken as he left.   
  
I never apologized. I never even got near him again.   
  
But I was always in the shadows, watching him.   
  
I was like a stalker, obsessing over the one person who has cared enough to talk to me.   
  
This isn't right. Am I in love? This isn't love. What is love?   
  
I don't know. I just want to see him. I just wanted to talk to him. To tell him the things he wanted to hear during my moment of weakness.   
  
To let him hear the words that would elicit a solemn, yet comforting verbal compensation.   
  
To be pitied by him. To feel... "Love"   
  
All throughout Junior High, I was watching him.   
  
I was alone. I was miserable. I wanted him. Think what you will.   
  
When I found out that he was planning to go to a high-standard public high school instead of a private school during his last year, my spirits soared.   
  
I can follow him. If I pass the entrance exam, I can follow him. It will be easy.   
  
Maybe when we get to high school, I can tell him everything. Everything.   
  
I will follow him to Hokuei Koutou-Gakkou...   
  
And then I will tell him.   
  
END OF CHAPTER 1 


	2. Dame Hayasugiruzo

DAI NISSHOO: "MADA MADA… HAYASUGIRU."  
  
I did it.  
  
I passed the exam to get into Hokuei High. I have three more years to let Arima know how I felt before he disappears from my life forever.  
  
Yet…  
  
I don't know when I will tell him. I've been thinking about it a lot, but I haven't gathered up enough courage to do so.   
  
I'm a coward. That's right… I'm a coward.  
  
It's not too late, and yet here I was, in the classroom, burying my head in my desk, panicking as if it was.  
  
Unfortunately, it gets worse.  
  
With my rotten luck, I wasn't put into Arima's section. Instead, I was assigned in section 1-A, where that infamous lady-killer, Asaba Hideaki, was gallivanting about with his "flock".  
  
I didn't know him that well. I heard that he liked to charm girls, and that was it. He suddenly approached me, with a gait that exudes the persona that makes girls go crazy over him.   
  
What can that be like?  
  
Can it be the motions of a chivalrous knight? Or perhaps the subtle, yet enticing steps akin to that of Don Juan de Marco? Or maybe it's the flamboyant grace of a modern-day Casanova?  
  
One thing's for sure: He lacks the humble qualities that made Genji and his illegitimate son Kaoru irresistible to the courtesans of Heian...  
  
Frankly, I don't get how he can be so charming. Maybe it's just me. The others seem to enjoy just looking at him. Staring at him. Calling out his name.  
  
I don't know if he knew all about me, so I just held my ground and kept silent.  
  
I was relieved. He didn't know my name. He's too busy fooling around with his harem to keep track.  
  
"Turn that frown upside down, my little Mary… sulking doesn't suit you. You're wasting that lovely face by using it to frown…"  
  
He doesn't know your name, so he calls you Mary. Humph.  
  
I ignored him. Funny isn't it? I couldn't react to that. I just couldn't. I didn't know how.  
  
I just sat there, my sullen expression unchanging. There was only one thing on my mind at the time: Arima. Only Arima.  
  
It seems as though I had but a mere one-track mind; Boys are said to have that too. Does that make me half of what I am?   
  
I was too busy thinking about Arima to answer my own query.  
  
I know… I know that a lot of girls have approached him before, poured out their heart to him, only to be met with bitter rejection.  
  
"P-p-please a-accept this… Arima-kun…"  
  
"I'm sorry… I can't take that…"  
  
"Why? Do you already have someone you really care for?"  
  
"I'm sorry…"  
  
Even then, he was still a gentleman. He had a way of letting people down easy, to somehow say "no" without hurting their feelings too much. I admire such control.  
  
Control and guts: The two things I severely lack. I envy those who have even the slightest bit of it in their system.  
  
Not that I'm saying that he a master at rejecting people, but during his stay at Junior High, he was always alone. He made it his crusade to remain in solitude, yet everyone who admired him surrounded him.   
  
But in truth and in fact, Arima was alone.  
  
I was alone too. For far too long, I'm afraid. I wanted someone to share my feelings with.   
  
But not with this weirdo who was standing in front of me, staring with artificial passion. Passion that was akin to a puppet being manipulated by its master to act out all of the things it really could not do by itself.  
  
I bet he knew what it feels like to be both the master and the puppet in one sitting.  
  
The other girls called out to Asaba in unison, with a playful rhyme that was supposed to be funny:  
  
"Asaba-ku~n!! Don't go near that bi~tch!! She's a wi~tch!! Her mother is to~o!!"  
  
Everyone in the class laughed. Even Asaba. But his laughter looked like it was faked, which is no surprise, since he seems to fake everything to always be charming to his "Little Marys".  
  
Is it just me, or does HE actually care? Hard to believe, but then again…  
  
After laughing, he glanced at me with a concerned look in his eyes, and then threw himself to the throng of excited girls vying for his attention.  
  
I didn't give much thought to the way he looked at me. I was still thinking of Arima.  
  
I was thinking that though he was alone most of the time, one girl got close enough to him, but he only thought of her as his imoto, his little sister.  
  
Shibahime Tsubasa. I heard she got in this school too.  
  
If I hadn't shouted at Arima like that, maybe I would've been the little sister.  
  
Back in Junior High, she was so cute that she was treated like a little princess… spoiled silly. She got away with everything, and she only answered to Arima.  
  
She still is. Her friends treat her like a wild animal though. That ought to keep her in check.  
  
I knew that we had the same situation; only her father is not an idiot. Not like my mom, who consistently repeats her visible mistakes, and seems to fake all of her emotions.   
  
If anything, she acts like Asaba-kun: pretentious and deceptive. Is she really my mom?  
  
*Sigh* … my head hurts whenever I think that. With the way she treats me, you'd think I was adopted or something.  
  
I'm tired of thinking about these things… maybe I'll go outside to get some air.   
  
I doubt there will be any real classes since it's just the session to "assign seats" and "organize the housekeeper duties". Other than that, there was nothing else to look forward to.  
  
I opened the sliding door and walked out. Even before I left, I was wondering what kind of "surprise" those stinkers would put in my bag before I got back.   
  
Back in Junior High, it was a frog. Big whoop. I'm not scared of frogs.  
  
"What brand of torture would the evil students of Hokuei employ to make my life any more worse than it already is?"   
  
I was walking round the corridor with glazed eyes. I looked like a zombie. I felt like a zombie.  
  
Heck, maybe I AM a zombie.  
  
A living zombie bereft of sleep (due to studying) and love (none whatsoever at home, or anywhere else for that matter). I was the living dead girl, Kirishima Midori.  
  
"THUD!!"  
  
I wasn't looking where I was going. Before I knew it, I face to face with him.  
  
Arima. I bumped into him. I got close to him again. But it's too early.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry… Are you alright?"  
  
He spoke to me again. I couldn't take it. I still didn't have the nerve to face him.   
  
He might recognize me as the girl back in Junior High… The one who took out all of her repressed anger at him, even if he wasn't doing anything to hurt me.   
  
He might hate me. I don't want to remember him that way in case my courage never comes. I don't want him to remember me that way forever.   
  
I don't want it to end like that. NO!!! It mustn't end like that.  
  
I ran away. Tears started to fall. It was tantamount to the tears I shed when he tried to comfort me back then.   
  
Let's face it. I'm a crybaby. I'm not what they would call a modern girl. I'm not strong like the athletic types. I'm not as in control or as rational as the intellectuals. I'm not as aggressive or as idealistic as the leader types.  
  
I am weak. I have no control. I am irrational. I am mild. I am realistic.  
  
I am who I become.   
  
My behavior is my definition of "normal". It bears no tangible semblance to socially established norms. I was a soto, an outsider. It's been that way for a long time.  
  
I was just I. Midori. I was the little girl who never had the chance to grow up. Maturity is as elusive to me as it is looking for a gold nugget in a copper mine.  
  
I was secretly glad that he did not try to follow. He just stood there, without the slightest clue of why this girl was crying.   
  
Guys are clueless. Go figure. They think nothing of what they see. They don't get as involved as anyone would expect. They are insensitive. They keep their emotions shut in their coin lockers. It was a cruel fact of nature, and nothing could convince me otherwise.  
  
Perhaps even someone like Arima was not impervious to that fact as well?  
  
He did not see who I was. Maybe he thought nothing of it. He must've shrugged it off like any boy would.  
  
All I know is, it was not yet time… I'm not ready yet.  
  
"It's too early… IT'S MUCH TOO EARLY!!!"   
  
END OF CHAPTER 2 


	3. Hachi No Tsutsuita You

*DAI SANSHOO: "HACHI NO TSUTSUITA YOU"   
  
"IMA WA DOKO OWARI DA!!! KORE DEMO KURA~E!!!! SHINRYOKU HO~~U!!!"   
  
"ATARUMONOKA!!"   
  
"E? NANTO!? KARE WA DOKO!?"   
  
"HEHEHE~N DA!! OSOIZO!!! AMAI, AMAI!!!"   
  
"TCH!! KONCHIKSHO KONO YAROU!!!"   
  
"FU!! BOKU NO SAI~KYOU ICHIBAN HI~RO DAZE!!! MAKENAIDE DAKARA!!! SASERUKA!!! HI~~SATSU!!! AO~RYU KE~~~NNN!!!"   
  
"DOWA!! NANTE KOITSU POWA WA? YARARETA!!!"   
  
DODO~~~N!!!   
  
"GYAHAHAHAHA!!! WAKUWAKUMAN NO SHOUICHII!!! GYAHAHAHAHA!!!"   
  
I'm home.   
  
I got to go back eventually, whether I like it or not.   
  
I live in a trashy looking little 3-room flat conveniently located close to the Nanbu line. There's no better way to go to and fro then from there.   
  
From there, it's easy to go to the movies, easy to go shopping. What use it is it to me though?   
  
Home is where the heart is, they say... If my heart were left here, the big rat that's been skulking around my tiny room would've eaten it already.   
  
Now you may be wondering why there was some inane superhero talk in the background. Well, believe it or not, this is my usual study routine.   
  
I go in my room, organize my homework in the desk, go back to the living area, turn on the T.V., listen to, but not watch, the kiddy action show that's playing while I solve migraine-inducing Trigonometry problems in advance.   
  
It's the best kind of program to approximate a heated argument. Only this one includes laser blasts, dissonant sound effects, and explosives. The noisier it is, the better.   
  
Robots fighting in space are the loudest yet. It's exceedingly better than the former, but too bad that program is only on once a week.   
  
What can I say? I feel comfortable studying while there's pandemonium happening in the environment. I'm sorta used to it. Aren't you?   
  
I finish my work a lot faster, and a lot better that way.   
  
Without my mom and step dad arguing in the background, things are just... quiet.   
  
Perhaps maybe it's a little TOO quiet without them. So sometimes I turn the volume up a notch to meet the desired effect.   
  
That's better. Now on to Classical Japanese Literature...   
  
"Polish your forearms while you're young, and your bright future is assured."   
  
It means to improve your skills. "Kotowazas" sound corny, but it brings up good advice from time to time.   
  
Noise. It's anything that makes an unpleasant sound at an incessant rate. Any sane person would want peace and quiet while studying.   
  
But you know as well as I that I am far from being sane, much less normal.   
  
In this neighborhood, you can't get all fussy about peace and quiet. Everyone seems to have something to curse about these days, what with the economic depression and all.   
  
I kid you not. Do the words "Hetakuso", "Bakero", "Chikshou", and "Baka yarou" mean anything to you? Thought so.   
  
"If noise rattles you easily while you're studying, how will you manage when you're now part of the workforce, where everything is hectic, and oftentimes REALLY noisy?"   
  
I often asked myself that question when the racket was still unbearable for me back then.   
  
I could not afford to act like a Prima Donna if I wanted to get into Hokuei with this noise.   
  
I just had to wear a sheepish grin and bear it full brunt. As time passed, it became more of a necessity than an annoyance.   
  
"I can't study like this..."   
  
"Well then, go to the library."   
  
"You're kidding, right?"   
  
In case you didn't notice, I was talking to myself. At least I listen to what I have to say.   
  
I can't study in quiet places anymore. I've been cursed with an artificial talent to memorize, solve, define, comprehend, and read mentally taxing stuff under decibel-destroying circumstances, and the inability to do so in a serene environment.   
  
Noise has become my brain food. It's my drug.   
  
Will there be any use for that in the bigger world? Hah. You have no idea.   
  
I'm almost finished. Most of the work required for next day's lesson is finished. I'm ready for the load ahead.   
  
Now it's time to mope about my weakness for a while before I return to my studies.   
  
I pick up an album. Childhood memories? Nope. I burned all of my childhood photos in the incinerator in the school. Not that mom cared, anyway.   
  
It was my treasure. This little album is a compilation of pictures and stuff about Arima taken from the school paper back in Junior High.   
  
Take this away from me, and I will hunt you down and kill you. I mean it.   
  
This was the only thing keeping me from going really crazy. Clinging to the hope that someday, this boy would care about me, even as just a friend. If it could be so much more than that, then that's a fringe benefit that's most welcome.   
  
If he weren't so nice, anyone would do just fine. But everyone hates me, so he's my only hope. I was only obsessing over him because he's the only one who doesn't see me as a freak.   
  
I repeat: THE ONLY ONE.   
  
But heck, both my feet are on the ground. My dream is tantamount to grasping a cloud.   
  
But I can dream, can't I? Though if I don't act fast enough, it will stay that way forever.   
  
Aside from my leaky eyes, there's another part of me that's stopping me from getting this emotional ordeal over with.   
  
It's in my gut. The mere thought of going near him and confessing stuff drove me to the brink of nausea. It's not because the thought is disgusting; my weak stomach always acts up when I get too excited sometimes.   
  
That's a rarity in my case.   
  
That's yet another sterling example of lack of control.   
  
Speaking of guts, I'm getting hungry. Time to pop another T.V. dinner in the microwave.   
  
It was already past 3 A.M.   
  
I don't need to pull an all-nighter just yet.   
  
And yes, I do know how to cook, but there was nothing in the fridge to whip up anything edible anyway. We're also out of cooking oil. Ha ha.   
  
Thank goodness that mom gets a lot of late shifts nowadays. The last thing I need right now is a thick-faced woman who acts as if I wasn't there. I only see her in the morning.   
  
That stranger isn't coming home either. What a relief.   
  
I was alone in the house.   
  
I was alone with my thoughts, with my not-so far-fetched dream.   
  
My dream was all about being able to shed my inherent flaws and do what I wanted to do.   
  
I washed my face; I set the futon down and retired for the night. I left the dishes unwashed. I thought: "Heck, let the Ice Queen do the dishes... She owes me that much."   
  
I closed my eyes and that was it.   
  
Morning will come soon enough. Tomorrow will be another day to waste kicking myself for my inadequacies.   
  
Or perhaps I might be able to do it right this time?   
  
Who knows?   
  
For now, I don't care. I'm too tired.   
  
Oyasumi nasai...   
  
Lights out.   
  
END OF CHAPTER 3 


	4. Muzukashii No Kaete

DAI YONSHOO: "MUZUKASHII NO KAETE"   
  
It's now my second day of class at Hokuei Koutou-Gakkou.   
  
Though you might say that this will be the "real first day" because from this day forward, the real fight begins.   
  
The second day marks the true beginning of the three-year battle towards that period of judgment and suffering known as Juken Jigoku.   
  
College Entrance Exam Hell: If I could get past that and survive, College will be a cinch.   
  
But today also marks another daily struggle: The continuing dissonant ties of the Kirishima clan.   
  
I left the house in a huff. I had a very bad morning. Hopefully it won't affect the rest of my day if I'm lucky.   
  
My mom, the "Ice Queen" tried in vain yet again to explain how her relationship with "the second stranger" is different.   
  
I just gave her a funny look and rapidly downed my breakfast. I didn't want to talk to her.   
  
She didn't want to listen to what I had to say before so: " Right back at you..."   
  
But I heard everything. I didn't want to listen, but I assimilated every word down to the last syllable. When they all started to sink in, I couldn't help but cringe.   
  
"Now where have I heard that sad song before?" I thought.   
  
For goodness sakes, that's the same thing as what you said about your first husband after dad... has anything REALLY changed?   
  
Nothing has changed, of course not. We're still like this, as you can very well see...   
  
Ignoring the rest of her explanations and ramblings, I grabbed my bag and rushed off to catch the first train to school.   
  
I ran all the way to the station. I just had to get away from it all.   
  
The train ride felt like a blur. Before I knew it, I was entering the school campus   
  
I got to school a bit after six. I was too early.   
  
I just had to get away. My fragile sanity hung in the balance. I only had two hours of rest last night, and she was on the verge of putting me back to sleep again.   
  
I can't have that. I have class. Unlike some people I know, I actually WANT to go to college...   
  
She goes on and on like a broken record on how this one is different... I just don't buy that...   
  
People usually learn from their mistakes, right? My mom doesn't seem to have enough common sense to see that she committed the same one TWICE.   
  
She's not exactly stupid, but I'm inclined to think otherwise.   
  
If things WERE different, then people will not go on anymore about you acting all unfaithful, unclean, and everything. They would say that you have turned over a new leaf.   
  
The white eyes, the cold stares will fade out. Warmth will set gradually in. They would say that you have changed, and for the better too.   
  
But it was not to be.   
  
You haven't signed the walking papers with dad yet, and you tie the knot with this other guy. Of course they would call you stupid. Of course they would call you immoral.   
  
And then you do it again.   
  
And you would see that your stupidity is taking a toll on your daughter.   
  
"Why did I get caught up in this? I'm just an innocent bystander..."   
  
Of course, she knows about me being an outcast and everything as a result of her actions, but she just discounts it as just a mere "childish prank" and doesn't think much of it...   
  
"CHILDISH PRANK!?"   
  
I slap my forehead in disbelief. It's not that simple.   
  
Arrgh... enough. I'm tired of recounting every inane rationalization that comes out of her mouth. She finished high school all right, but she has the reasoning skills of a first-grader.   
  
It's still too early. Literature class won't be for another two hours or so. And I'm done studying too. I'm bored beyond belief.   
  
Thinking about consistent errors made me thirsty. I think I'll go get some fruit juice.   
  
So off I go to get a cold one the vending machine out back. On the way there, I passed this pretty red-haired girl from section 1-B. Apparently, she was an early riser like I was.   
  
Miyazawa Yukino. Who hasn't heard of her?   
  
Though she was not chosen as Class Representative here in Hokuei, she had all of the qualities of a good leader: Good-natured, confident, and idealistic. She also had consistent high marks in all of her subjects, and a near-perfect score in the entrance exam.   
  
If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was a female equivalent of Arima.   
  
Of course, the facts being what they are, she can't even come close to topping Arima. No way.   
  
Arima is the Class Representative here, as he was three years ago back in Junior High. It affirmed to me that he would always be number one wherever he goes.   
  
He is unbeatable. He is perfect. He will always be number one. ALWAYS.   
  
I got my juice. I leaned on the wall for a while, drank it all up, and I reluctantly started back to the classroom to wile the rest of the time away.   
  
The time at present that seems to drag on forever. Even before class was beginning, I couldn't wait for it to end.   
  
I stopped.   
  
I met up with Miyazawa again in the corridor. She came from the music room. I didn't know she loved to play the piano.   
  
She was looking at me, reading my somber, downcast profile. Her eyes did not exude the same piercing gaze that other people cast upon me.   
  
"Ano... Have we met before?"   
  
I couldn't answer. She... she just formed a conversation with me!? Does she know whom she's talking to!?   
  
"Um... N-n-no. I-I-I-I d-don't believe so..."   
  
That was the best I could muster. I was really trembling at that time.   
  
"Oh my goodness... you're shaking like a leaf!! Are you okay?"   
  
"Y-y-yes I am... Please d-don't worry about m-m-me. It's just..."   
  
"Well? It's just what?"   
  
"I um, uh... please don't laugh, but... I... I never really talked to anybody before..."   
  
"Well, you're talking to me."   
  
I was held aghast. Miyazawa was so pleasant. Did she not care that I was the daughter of an immoral woman? The one rumored to be from the water business? The woman who married three times, and never got divorced?   
  
She was smiling. And doesn't look like it's faked.   
  
My head was spinning. I know that I lacked sleep. Only two hours? Of course I would get these visions. Was I still dreaming? Someone other than Arima was talking to me. That never happened before...   
  
I could not believe it. I did not understand it one bit. Maybe this was an illusion.   
  
I wanted to run away. This was just too weird. Suddenly my world was turning around, and I wasn't geared up for any drastic changes in my life. This just came up like birds flying up from under my feet.   
  
It was so sudden. If I wanted this to stop, I could just walk away.   
  
But I didn't. Somehow, I wanted to stick around. It felt nice to be exposed to someone new. All my life, it was Arima, Arima, Arima.   
  
It's not that I was tired of him. It's just... well... I can't explain it exactly. It just bowls me over.   
  
"Helloo! Are you still with us? I'm Miyazawa Yukino."   
  
"I know... uh, I mean... yes! I'm Kirishima Midori. Yoroshiku ne..."   
  
"Yoroshiku..."   
  
"Well, I'd better get back... I um, got to study for my first subject, Miyazawa-san. It was really nice talking to you..."   
  
"Same here. And regarding studying, I know exactly what you mean. Ja, mata kite ne, Kirishima-san!! Ganbatte!!"   
  
She walked away, but I still stood there frozen.   
  
I didn't know what to make of it, I just didn't.   
  
I stood there for so long, I wasn't aware of the time.   
  
For me, time has stopped. I was like a statue.   
  
When the chimes rang, I was jarred. Reality was slowly setting in. It took me a while to realize that I have fainted in the corridor while still standing, and was late for my first period class.   
  
Of course, no one would snap me out of it. They wanted me to get in trouble.   
  
I rushed to the door, panicked. All the while, I was thinking:   
  
"Oh, no... I get here early and I'm still late for class... I'm like a carp on a cutting board now... How do I explain what happened back there to the teacher?"   
  
Not withstanding that thought, I decided that things were okay. The change that I was hoping for has finally happened after so long, though not in the way that I expected it to be.   
  
For the first time in my life, I had made an acquaintance.   
  
NO. I have made a friend.   
  
END OF CHAPTER FOUR 


	5. Sukoshi No Shizuku

DAI GOSSHO: "SUKOSHI NO SHIZUKU"   
  
The chimes rang again. It was time to go home.   
  
Most of the school clubs are setting up for their day-to-day practice. They go on until 5, sometimes 6 o' clock. It's kind of stressful given that club activities add to their load in this fast-paced life, but they seem to derive indescribable enjoyment from it.   
  
Excuse me for sounding so primitive, but I don't really know what it's like at all.   
  
"Iina..." (I'm envious...)   
  
I wasn't part of any club even way back in elementary. They read the name Kirishima Midori, and my application slip comes back to me faster than anything. Volleyball, Softball, Crafts, you name it.   
  
Since that time, I gave up trying and instead became part of the "Just Go Home and Sleep" club, though not of my own choosing.   
  
I wanted to join a real club. I wanted an excuse to come home late, but make something of myself in the process. Okay, now that reason may be a bit selfish, but come on... with my situation, I was looking into ways to stay away from there as best I can.   
  
I wonder if Miyazawa in still in her classroom? I want to talk to her some more...   
  
She seemed rather pleasant.   
  
So off I went to the classroom next door, 1-B. She was there, surrounded by a few other girls. The desks were arranged close to each other. Apparently, they were trying to solve some complicated math problems.   
  
Mathematics always gave the common student the chills. More so regarding the kind of math that Kawashima-Sensei was teaching.   
  
He was rather infamous around here for being very strict, and he gives some ridiculously difficult problems during quizzes. If you don't do any sort of advanced studying beforehand, you will be so left behind... and dead too, grade-wise.   
  
I called her attention, not caring about how the others would react.   
  
"Miyazawa-san!"   
  
They all looked up to me. Miyazawa was smiling towards this familiar face of mine, while the other girls around her were giving me dirty looks, as usual.   
  
"Miyazawa-san..." one of the girls silently inquired. "...Do you... know her?"   
  
"Why yes. She was that overly nervous girl I met this morning... Would you care to join us, Kirishima-san? We're doing some advanced practice computations on Trigonometry..."   
  
Nervousness had set in again. Miyazawa was right. I am an overly nervous girl.   
  
But can you blame me? I was never invited to join group study sessions before. I ALWAYS studied alone. I hesitated, but I gathered up enough guts to enter the classroom.   
  
As I got closer and closer, the other girls were starting to fix their stuff. No surprise, I'm used to them doing that to stay away from me. One of them even made up an excuse.   
  
"Uh, Miyazawa-san, let's finish this tomorrow... I just remembered that I was supposed to be the one to cook our dinner at home tonight."   
  
"And I have to fetch my little brother too..." another girl retorted.   
  
"Mata ne, Miyazawa-san..."   
  
"Bye-bye..."   
  
One by one, they left the room. I was standing there, looking at Miyazawa, who didn't budge an inch. The offer was still up, I suppose. I took a seat opposite her, and took out my book and some scratch paper.   
  
I did not say anything, even when Miyazawa cast me an inquisitive gaze. I opened my book and started to read the formulas for the problems. I was having trouble with a particular scheme, and I thought that I could ask her for help. If this were to appear in the quiz later in the term, at least I would be able to get it by now.   
  
But she just wouldn't let what happened slide just like that. Her quizzical look evolved into a prying, almost intrusive verbal query.   
  
"I won't ask why, Kirishima-san, but... how do you put up with that kind of poor treatment?"   
  
"I'm just used to it..."   
  
"Do you want me to talk to them...?"   
  
"I said I'm used to it... you don't have to bother..."   
  
"How can you get used to being ostracized? That's inhuman!!"   
  
"I JUST AM, DARN IT!! Now, are we going to study or are we just going to have some small talk about my miserable life!?"   
  
I did it again. First it was Arima, now her.   
  
Only this time, I didn't wait for Miyazawa to leave. I took the initiative.   
  
"Gomen ne... I just can't take being put on the spot like that, Miyazawa-san... Please understand..."   
  
That being said, I left her alone in the room. She was dumbfounded.   
  
Walking away seemed like the easiest thing to do. People would never believe me even if I told the truth, because all of the ugly details were out in plain sight.   
  
That was all they needed for a summary judgment. Not too much, not too little, but just right.   
  
If I ever rationalized the real reason for my family's circumstances, they would dismiss it as nothing but a little fish grinding her teeth.   
  
I'm such an idiot. The only other person who took notice of me also got a whiff of my fiery tongue. I meet people who don't care about my past and try to form a bond with me, and I push them away...   
  
Why?   
  
I blame my mom for being an idiot and repeating all of her mistakes, but I'm doing the same thing too... It must run in the family.   
  
I gave it a whole lot of thought while on the train. I didn't even care that it was rush hour.   
  
As expected, I could not make sense of it no matter how hard I tried. It was as irrational as anyone would expect.   
  
Before long, I was home. And so was that stranger that I have to call my "stepdad". He was sitting on the floor with a queer smile on his face. Apparently, he had been smoking. Piles of cigarette butts were overflowing from the ashtray, and the mess lined the edge of the table.   
  
His name was Morishita Yuusuke. A cop. I wouldn't call him an "honorable policeman" anytime soon. Not even if my life depended on it.   
  
What did mom see in him, anyway?   
  
I really wasn't expecting him to be home. Usually, he's almost always never around to tick me off. He was often on call during the wee hours of the night, but for some reason, he was still here, huffing and puffing sticks like there was no tomorrow...   
  
The unbearable stench of burning tobacco, along with his weird-smelling cologne added to the sting of my already long-drawn disdain for this person.   
  
"Ogaeri, Midori-chan... Come on and give daddy a hug."   
  
"Urusai wa ne... spare me the faked parental affection. And for one thing, you're sure as hell not my dad, so leave me alone..."   
  
"Now see here... don't talk to me that way, or I'll tell your mom that.."   
  
"Huh! Be my guest!!! Now if you don't mind, I gotta go study... the air is too polluted around here, and it's not because of those cigarettes..."   
  
I locked the door behind me in case he gets any ideas. I don't want to get beat up by a violent pervert. With his behavior and all of the rape cases I've been seeing on TV so far, it didn't hurt to be extra careful.   
  
But I couldn't study. It was too quiet. So I just slept without any dinner. Who needs dinner anyway? I'm already getting too chubby.   
  
Besides, with all that's happened so far, I wouldn't have been able to eat.   
  
I bet Miyazawa is angry with me now.   
  
I sure hope Arima isn't...   
  
END OF CHAPTER 5 


	6. Kanojo No Koto Part 1

DAI ROKUSHOO: "KANOJO NO KOTO" (SONO ICHI: ARIMA)   
  
It is my desire to be perfect.   
  
If people could find no fault with me, I'll be just fine, even if my family hates me.   
  
They hate me. I hate them too.   
  
Just because my father disgraced the family, I was also branded as a bad seed.   
  
They say that I resembled him in every aspect. They also feared that I would inherit his evil ways... To them, my existence was a dark stain in the Arima clan's honorable hierarchy.   
  
My only saving grace is that my new mother and father (who are actually my uncle and aunt) have the courage to stand up for me.   
  
But I don't want them to do it. They've already done so much...   
  
And so it came to pass that I arrived at a decision: To attain a flawless image of myself to make up for everything that was, and still is, dark about me.   
  
I wanted to be a good person. More than anything else, it was my intention to show the world that Arima Souichirou is someone that people could rely on.   
  
Though those who seemingly cared for me surrounded me, I kept my heart closed. I know for a fact that they want me for something other than friendship.   
  
They're about as obvious as they get.   
  
Though I was smiling, my guard was up. I was well aware of how cruel people can be.   
  
Besides, I didn't want them to know that I was the object of contempt of my family. If they knew, they would leave me behind, and probably would not want to have anything to do with me.   
  
I was already a dark stain in my family, and it would be the same story in the school.   
  
That would be too much for one person to bear.   
  
If that were to happen to me, I would go insane.   
  
I did everything I could to be perfect. Juggling everything but the kitchen sink while keeping up with my academics. It kept me busy.   
  
So busy in fact, that I started to forget about my problems for a while, much to my relief.   
  
But one event back in Junior High made me remember it again.   
  
After settling the papers regarding an upcoming school excursion, I went up to the rooftop of the building to get some fresh air. I still had a lot of committee paperwork to do after that, and I was savoring a brief moment of respite.   
  
Then I heard sobs. A girl was crying in the far right of the rooftop entrance.   
  
I was taken aback.   
  
The way she was slumped to floor reminded me of myself as a child, who back then was unable to comprehend why my parents left me behind.   
  
Suddenly, I had this peculiar urge to go up and console her.   
  
Perhaps my reasons were selfish, since I merely wanted closure for my own personal grief. It had nothing to do with whatever she was dealing with.   
  
I inquired softly about what was troubling her...   
  
I got a response, though not one that I was expecting.   
  
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW!? YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ME!!"   
  
I was shocked. She cut right through me like a knife.   
  
She was right. I had no idea.   
  
I wanted to care, but actually didn't.   
  
I left her there. I never had my rest, nor have I consoled either her or myself.   
  
I've seen her a lot of times before. She was always alone.   
  
When she wasn't alone, her peers would pick on her. Of course, being the dutiful representative and everything, I stopped them.   
  
Then I'd say my usual assurance which was reminiscent of a robot's programmed response:   
  
"Don't worry. As long as I'm around, no student will be treated badly."   
  
After which she would just bow and slink away without saying a word.   
  
Somehow, I was drawn to her, but this feeling was not even remotely close to love.   
  
Or was it?   
  
It was confusing. I thought she didn't like me, but I often catch her staring my way.   
  
I didn't know what to make of it. Not that I really cared, anyway.   
  
There were more pressing things to do...   
  
Chapter 6.1 END 


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